


break me (like a promise)

by ulta



Series: remember me (in your heart) [1]
Category: VICTON (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Childhood Friends, Drinking, Heo Chan-centric, Light Angst, M/M, The Chanjun fic no one asked for, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-06 06:55:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12812091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ulta/pseuds/ulta
Summary: He never wanted his heart to be stepped on, he just wanted his love, his touch, he wanted Sejun. Instead, he got his heart broken more times than he’d like to recall, for every memory with the dimpled grin and the dangling earrings is a memory too painful for Chan to relive.





	break me (like a promise)

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, Chan!
> 
> Okay, so I know no one ships Chan and Sejun together, INCLUDING MYSELF, so I really don't know why I'm writing this, but it just had to be them for this to work. Alternatively, I could've gone with Chan and Seungsik but that's, in my opinion, more horrifying, so please do enjoy this poorly written story that I worked two nights on!!

Chan is slow to realise that the root of all the hurt he’s ever experienced in the miserable years of his existence is either directly or indirectly the fault of Im Sejun.

 

They met for the first time at the age of twelve when Chan’s class was dissolved and he was transferred into Sejun’s mess of a grade six class. Sejun had given him that dimpled smile of his and introduced himself, their interactions stopping there for two years, because Chan falls all too easily, a simple smile occupying his thought space for days and weeks, and Sejun’s smile was that kind of smile. Sejun was the type of person whom the world loved dearly, whose eye smile had the capability to catch the hearts of everyone on the planet in his hands, Sejun was the type of person who would trap you with a massive amount of love and care at the start, only to discard you when he finds something better. Sejun was _, and is,_ the type of person to claim he loves you, before crushing your heart in his hand, and moving on far too quickly for you to believe his love was genuine. Chan falls easily, but that’s for love and not trickery, and Chan wasn’t about to have his feelings be played like a chess game.

 

He was wrong about Sejun for the first time.

 

They met for the second time, though arguably it’s the first time when they were fourteen, when the younger boy missed a step on the staircase and ended up tumbling forwards. Fortunately, Sejun wasn’t hurt, a soft object breaking his fall and allowing him to get away with just a tiny graze on his cheek. Unfortunately, that soft object was Chan’s pre-pubescent body, and he wasn’t as lucky as Sejun, breaking his nose in the fall. Sejun had smiled sheepishly when he went to visit Chan in the hospital three days later, apologising to him in a hushed tone with his head hanging low. Chan simply smiled as widely as he could, the bandages on the bridge of his nose restraining the movement of the muscles on his face, “I guess you fell for me.” Outside, their parents discussed the hospital fee, Sejun’s mother offering to cover the whole cost, stating bitterly that her son had done nothing but cause her problems his whole life. The disdain in her tone shocking Chan’s parents and they soon realised that Sejun probably didn’t lead a happy home life, and from there, they decided to unofficially adopt Sejun into their family.

 

So, he and Sejun met for the second time while falling down the stairs together, meeting with a broken nose and a couple of stitches, and while Chan was against the idea of becoming friends with someone who almost killed him, Sejun was all too eager to attempt to befriend Chan. Along the way, Sejun had found a way to weasel into the hearts of not just Chan’s overbearing parents, but also his aloof brother, and eventually Chan himself. Chan had smiled the day he ruffled Sejun’s fluffy hair for the first time and declared Sejun a younger brother he never had. (His brother, Jun, had snickered softly, claiming Sejun to be his favourite younger brother. Chan kicked him in the shin.) Chan had confidence that Sejun would never hurt him again and they could just be a normal pair of best friends who didn’t trip each other down staircases every alternate week.

 

Unfortunately, it turns out that he was wrong about Sejun for the second time.

 

He remembers cycling into a tree at the age of fifteen while reaching for Sejun when his bicycle went off the track and tumbled downhill. A broken arm for Chan, two broken legs for Sejun, and twenty-three stitches shared between the two of them later, Sejun still managed to find a way to laugh about the incident, apologising to both Chan and his mother between strangled gasps and uncontrollable laughter. It’s really fortunate that Chan’s mother loved Sejun more than she loved Chan, or she would’ve punched him off another hill and broken his arms too.

 

He remembers having to stand between bigger kids and Sejun in the hallway at the age of sixteen, protecting Sejun from getting hit by the upperclassmen in some freshman-sophomore abuse of power, later, he found out that the upperclassmen were, in fact, Seungwoo and Seungsik, Sejun’s friends from a childhood Chan wasn’t involved in and the three were just catching up. This did not stop Seungwoo from sending him to the nurse when he thought Chan was threatening Seungsik, a dental appointment was quickly scheduled to fix the five teeth Seungwoo broke.

 

He remembers running late for a lesson at the age of seventeen on a Monday because _awful, awful Sejun_ turned his alarm clock off over the weekend when it went off on a Saturday after Chan forgot to turn it off. He remembers getting yelled at because, “College is not going to be like this, grow up!” He was sent to detention for the third time that year, and all three times had been linked to Sejun somehow.

 

He remembers lying on the ground at the age of eighteen, the villain football that had attacked his forehead, kicked by none other than Im Sejun, rolling away. The football was later stopped at the foot of a boy with a mullet and a fanny pack, who is now one of their closest friends, Hanse. Sejun later apologised to him, kneeling on the floor to speak to him, only to accidentally step on his face. Chan swears he broke his nose a second time that day, but that’s just Chan being overdramatic.

 

He remembers getting stung by bees at the age of nineteen, after Sejun accidentally provoked a hive during a nature walk organised by their university. The younger boy playing with rocks in his hand, before tripping on a branch and falling to the floor, the rocks flying and smashing into the beehive in some cruel twist of fate. While the other students suffered from three or four stings, Chan remembers how he and Sejun held the record at fourteen and fifteen sting wounds respectively. The school has since put a hold on all nature walks.

 

Yes, Chan is slow to realise that the root of all the hurt he’s ever experienced in the miserable years of his existence is either directly or indirectly the fault of Im Sejun. Broken bones, stitches, bruises, every raw emotion the fault of the boy with earring dangling from his earlobes and a dimpled smile rivaled by no other. Days and weeks spent in the hospital and hours spent nursing multiple bee sting wounds. Sejun is the root of every injury, every gash wound that caused him great pain, and the entire time, Chan has never noticed how much Sejun hurts him.

 

Yes, Chan falls easily, but that’s for love and not trickery, and Chan wasn’t about to have his feelings be played like a chess game, but now that he sits alone in an empty room that roars too loudly, he can’t help but feel that he played right into Sejun’s fingers, and while he may have been wrong about Sejun throwing hearts away like they mean nothing (or at least, Chan’s heart, since Sejun was never opposed to walking away, leaving others heartbroken), he can’t help but feel like Sejun’s stepping on his feelings, unaware and oblivious. Sejun’s heels crushing his heart and lungs, heartbeats skipping and moments spent breathless, choking and gasping for air to calm his mind down from the hell Sejun has unknowingly thrown him into.

  
  
  


Every Tuesday, Chan will wait for Sejun to finish an evening lecture in the main building at a nearby cafe, sitting across a younger student who waits for Sejun with him.

 

Subin should be a freshman, bright eyes, neat hair, stellar grades, exactly what you would expect from a freshman kid, pre-quarter life crisis. Except that he's not, too brilliant for the freshman curriculum, the younger boy somehow managed to skip one of his high school years and advance to the same class as their friend, Hanse. He sits across Chan every week, sipping at an overpriced decaf frappe while tapping his pen to the table, trying to figure out how to solve a math question, _and it’s always math._ Chan would be exaggerating if he called Subin a friend, because despite spending thirty minutes with him weekly for half a year, Chan really does not hold an opinion of the younger; Subin likes Sejun and quite clearly has a puppy-crush on him, which annoys Chan greatly, but Sejun loves him to pieces, and so Chan has no choice but to attempt to get along with the freshman.

 

They met Subin when Sejun helped him up after a footballer knocked him over some time within the first week of school, and the look on Sejun’s face immediately told Chan that Subin was going to become Sejun’s next object of affection, to play with before throwing away when he got bored. Fortunately for Subin, he seems interesting enough to keep Sejun around for half a year. Chan’s familiar with Sejun walking out of lives when he gets bored, he avoids and runs from said person like they caught the plague until eventually, they stop coming for him. It hurts people, as much as it inconveniences Sejun to have to bolt, it’s a commitment and empathy issue.

 

Subin is fixed in the ever revolving door of the people in Sejun’s life, most people don’t last for more than a month, but Chan guesses that Subin must mean a lot to his best friend, for Sejun’s already introduced the kid to the rest of the fixed people; Seungwoo and Seungsik, who have known Sejun since he was a toddler, Hanse, who captured Sejun’s attention with his dry wit and his awkward facade of coolness (he’s really not cool), Subin, who is so much like a child that Sejun is weak to the force pressuring him to baby the freshman.

 

Then, there is Chan, and Chan likes to think that out of everyone who has wormed their way into Sejun’s couldn’t-care-less heart, he managed to worm the deepest path. Chan likes to think that out of everyone else, he’s Sejun’s number one, and since Sejun considers him his very best friend, perhaps he’s right about that.

 

 _Liar._ Chan realises that he can suddenly hear Seungsik’s nagging voice in his head. _It’s embarrassing to watch you fake some cold city guy façade. Just tell us the real reason why you and Subin pretend you’re not friends._

 

Seungsik’s right, it’s all an act, and as he stares at Subin longer than necessary, he remembers why he puts up this front.

 

It’s because Jung Subin is a real brat.

 

“Why do you never buy anything?” Subin asks, setting his pen on the table and taking another sip of his frappe, leaning back in his seat. “Every week, you walk into this cafe and you sit at my table and leech off the fact that I bought something to sit here.”

 

“Truth is, I’m taking advantage of the fact that you have no money management,” Chan answers shamelessly, shrugging his shoulders just slightly. “I’m a broke student in dept, Subin. I’m past the point of spending eight thousand won on a miserable cup of coffee, so doesn’t it make sense that I would crash with a spendthrift kid who leeches off my best friend’s attention daily?”

 

Subin is quiet for a few moments and Chan thinks, for a short-lived moment, that he managed to win the argument against Subin; the younger stares into his eyes after his silence and sets his frappe on the table with a smug look crossing his face. “You know how obvious you are, right? That you care so much for Sejun’s attention that you get threatened whenever he shows a little affection for anyone. Hell, I saw you getting jealous of him patting Seungsik’s back the other day. _Seungsik._ ”

 

“What on Earth are you even talking about?” Chan mumbles solemnly.

 

“Oh my god, it’s so obvious. You’re in love with your best friend, and he’s so touchy that you die inside every time he presses his cheek to your arm.”

  
  
  


It’s cliche, but the reason things are cliche is that they happen often, right? Maybe that’s why he’s part of the hundreds of thousands of people who fall for the other in their most intimate relationship, you fall for your best friend because you’re comfortable with them, after all. If you asked anyone with eyes, in fact, if you asked anyone at all, they’d be able to tell you that Chan’s been in love with Sejun for years. If you asked Chan, he’d be able to tell you that no one ever makes him smile as much as Sejun, that no one’s plagued his thoughts more than Sejun, that no one’s ever made his heart beat as quickly as Sejun.

 

He’d be able to tell you that it’s Sejun, and that it’s always been Sejun. That for every day since he’s known Sejun, he’s never looked at anyone else, and he still doesn’t. That he feels guilty just glancing at others, although he knows that he doesn’t owe Sejun anything, except to be a good best friend.

 

Sejun gets bored easily, and if you’re not enough to satisfy his never-ending thirst for entertainment, then you’re not enough for him. He plays people like they're his pawns on a chessboard, and he stands as the player, using everyone, even his queen, to satisfy himself. Chan’s familiar with how Sejun plays chess (after a three-hour game that resulted in Chan attempting to burn down the school library) and he knows that Sejun is unopposed to moving and killing every piece on the board.

 

Except for the king. Sejun never touches the king and part of Chan wonders if it’s symbolic, that once he gets his king piece, he’ll never do anything to harm them. A significantly larger part of Chan wonders if it's not that deep and Sejun just wants to win.

  
  
  


At the age of sixteen, Sejun kissed Chan, before Chan even considered the fact that he may be in love with his best friend. It was the kind of kiss that makes your head spin and makes you feel so ridiculously giddy, that makes you smile like an idiot after it happens, rather than a dramatic confession of undying love on Sejun’s part, he received something else that feels more like a slap in the face now, though it didn’t feel like anything back then. Sejun apologised to him, bowing his head with cheeks dusted red, biting his lip back after speaking each word, and he looked close to tears that Chan wondered if he did something wrong.

 

He apologised to Chan for making a mistake, a mistake invoked by a messy, hormonal teenager mind, told Chan that he regretted the way his lips pressed against the elder’s, regretted the way his hands threaded through Chan’s hair, regretted ever seeing Chan in that way. He apologised to Chan for making the most foolish mistake of his life, and Chan followed up by making an equally, if not more, foolish mistake. Chan forgave him, ruffling his hair and smiling awkwardly, claiming that everything was okay, and it was. It was okay because Chan understood the concept of making mistakes, moreover, if he didn’t forgive Sejun, would he lose him then? Chan refused to test the extent of Sejun’s willingness to stay with him, so he decided to leave it in the past.

 

Except that it didn’t stay in the past and that night, he found himself haunted by Sejun, by the memories of earlier that day. He found himself wide awake on his bed, heart pounding, and it was then when he realised his mistake; he should have thrown Sejun out of his life and run as fast as he could away from him, because that kiss, while it meant absolutely nothing to Sejun, opened his eyes, his oblivious eyes that took two years to see it. The kiss awoke him from a restless slumber and he was forced to face the fact that while Sejun felt nothing out of the platonic world towards him, he was absolutely, undeniably, irrevocably in love with Im Sejun.

 

Silently, he curses Sejun for falling down the stairs and breaking his nose eight years ago.

  
  
  


Hanse walks into the cafe much later than planned, which would normally annoy Subin, except that the younger is nowhere to be seen either, and neither are Sejun, Seungsik, and Seungwoo, who always come together. Distantly, Chan wonders if he came at the wrong time, or if he’s at the wrong place, or if they all collectively decided him to be boring and ditched him in some massive dick move. He then realises that the odds of Kang Seungsik ditching anyone is almost nonexistent and forces himself to believe that they’re all just running late.

 

Sure enough, Seungsik walks in two minutes later, effectively making him five minutes late, but Chan is relieved, heaving a sigh as he turns to face the older, whose hair is a huge mess, with his best attempt at a serious expression. “You’re late.”

 

“I know,” Seungsik sighs, running fingers through his hair in an attempt to neaten it. He sounds tired and smells a little bit like an overdose of deodorant. He chuckles humorlessly, exposing the dark circles under his eyes, privately, Chan thinks that he looks like an overworked mother. “I owe it all to those two.”

 

As if on cue, Sejun and Seungwoo walk in, arms crossed and glaring at each other. The deodorant on them smells twice as strong as the one on Seungsik, Chan pinches the bridge of his nose and coughs. All around, rich students who can afford the overpriced cafe stare at them with scorn, the smell of deodorant never gracing this cafe as harshly as it does now. Every corner reeks. Chan has smelled it before, faintly, on Seungwoo daily.

 

Seungsik sighs again, shaking his head. “Sejun spent two hours in their washroom and Seungwoo got mad so he resorted to banging on the door until Sejun came out.” Seungsik narrates the tale of how Sejun opened the door to the washroom and had grabbed Seungwoo’s deodorant and sprayed it onto him, which resulted in a twenty-minute deodorant fight and the depletion of all of Seungwoo’s deodorant. “And when I came to tell them to hurry up, I got sprayed too. Can you believe this? They’re twenty!” He sounds indignant and Chan doesn’t want to have to tell him to stop shouting in the overpriced cafe, but he can see the underpaid and overworked staff in aprons, glaring and waiting for Seungsik to notice the anger radiating off them. Chan places a gentle hand on Seungsik’s shoulder and sends his ass smashing into the chair.

 

“Sit down, guys,” he says sweetly, masking the murderous intent while glancing at the clock on the wall. “It’s been nine minutes.”

 

Hanse walks in later, twenty minutes later, everyone is used to his perpetual lateness by now and this isn’t the latest he’s ever been, with the record standing at him completely forgetting and remembering only five hours later. Surprisingly, he’s followed by Subin, who is normally always early to their weekly gatherings. In turn, Subin is followed by someone else, who awkwardly walks behind him, ducking his head to enter the cafe. Chan wishes he would’ve just smacked his head into the doorway, people as tall as that should not exist on Earth.

 

“Hey guys,” Hanse smiles cheerily, disregarding the murderous aura around the table, all faces look up and glare at the two for being late. “Syub and I got called down by Principal Park, again.”

 

The _again_ carries a daunting connotation which causes everyone to shudder in fear. With Jung Subin and Do Hanse, anything could happen, the two a pair of terrifying best friends, setting a record for the number of food fights ever started by a single group within the campus. Mischievous streak aside, both are the top students of their respective year two classes, their studies leagues higher than the rest of the cohort, with Subin who jumped a grade and Hanse who is under a scholarship. The principal must have called them down for either of two reasons: to praise them or to expel them.

 

“This is Choi Byungchan, he transferred into our school,” Subin explains, gesturing at the tall boy. “Dunno why Park thought it’d be a good idea to introduce him to us.”

 

“I wonder that too,” Sejun snorts, rolling his eyes. “It’s not like either of you are a good influence to giraffe boy.” He turns to Byungchan with a warm smile that reaches his eyes, and Chan is stunned for a second, after all, Sejun only smiles with his eyes when it’s sincere. There’s a hint of informality and familiarity as he speaks, this is also odd as Sejun normally speaks politely to anyone he doesn’t know. “Nice to see you, Byungchan, call me and I’ll save you from the heathens.”

 

A slight chuckle ripples across the table as the friends note that Sejun sounds like he’s mocking the accent of a medieval British knight, and Seungsik rolls his eyes at the younger. “Don’t be fooled, Im Sejun is just as terrible as them. I’m Kang Seungsik and starting today, you’re my new child.”

 

Sejun attempts to push Seungsik off his chair and Hanse is forced to run to restrain Sejun from the act that may land an unlucky Seungsik in the emergency room for a couple of days. Sejun glares. “Hanse, you coward, let me fight him.”

 

Hanse shakes his head and sighs, the rest ignore Sejun’s outraged cries and continue to go around, introducing themselves to Byungchan. Seungwoo indignantly stands and compares his height to Byungchan and Seungsik is forced to smile and lie through his teeth. “Seungwoo is taller!” Seungwoo looks pleased, smiling to himself. Seungsik turns back, shaking his head and mouths “No he’s not.”

 

“For the record, your nickname better be Byung,” Chan says, clearing his throat shortly after. “I’m already Chan.”

 

“He and Im Sejun have been married for thirty years,” Seungwoo notes calmly, before getting poked in the stomach by Sejun, who glares at him with the most pathetic look in the world and whines for ages after. Byungchan stiffens, though he nods in understanding shortly after, something about his posture gives Chan the impression that he really wants to die.

 

“Friends, we’re best friends,” Chan says through gritted teeth, he smirks sloppily and everyone in the world would be able to tell that he’s faking it, even Byungchan frowns slightly, lips that had previously curled upwards turning down slightly. Hanse stares at him with something written all over his face, Chan recognises this as pity and Subin reaches for his hand beneath the table, rubbing it in an attempt to soothe the older. Chan smiles a dimpled grin that could rival Sejun’s if he tried hard enough. “So you better take care of him, or I’ll kill you.”

 

_Friends, that’s all we’ll ever be._

  
  
  


“Hey, Subin.” The voice Chan hears from the other side of the door is familiar, though he fails to match it to a name, so it definitely is not one of Chan’s close friends. Subin answers said voice with a slight hum and Chan catches himself smiling fondly as he notes that Subin probably isn’t paying attention to what the other says. Chan also hates himself for smiling with so much affection while thinking about that brat, Jung Subin.

 

“Can I ask you a question?” Chan decides to stay hidden to eavesdrop on whatever conversation Subin is having with Mr. Mystery (a name Chan very proudly came up with three seconds prior) and he knows that Subin would likely throw him out if he walked into them having a conversation as serious as Mr. Mystery’s voice sounds.

 

“By asking that, haven’t you already?” Subin snorts, from the arrogant and mocking tone in his voice, Chan realises that Subin is probably on the other side of the door, disrespecting the other’s attempt to have a serious conversation with his light-hearted tone and insensitive jokes.

 

“No, it’s not that,” Mr. Mystery mumbles, not bothering to humour Subin at all, Chan hears Subin huff and can almost visualise the younger pouting at the lack of entertainment.

 

“Right, spill,” Subin says, the light-heartedness dropping from his tone.

 

“What exactly is the relationship between Sejun and Heo Chan?” Chan freezes, _that’s me, that’s my name. What the hell? Jung Subin, I swear to god if you trash talk me, I’ll never, ever forgive you. Ever._

 

“Late-childhood best friends, why?” Subin replies and he sounds disinterested, almost enough for Chan to blow his cover and run out to slap the younger.

 

“No, I saw something the other day, they’re not just friends, are they?” Subin laughs slightly, it’s almost breathless, as if he’s forcing it out, like it’s all fake. Subin sounds pained, just a little, no, a lot. Subin sounds suffocated and agonised, but he’s holding it back and hiding it with that hollow laugh of his. Subin sounds empty.

 

“Yeah,” Subin answers after what seems like a millennia, his voice is soft, vulnerable in a way that Chan has never heard him, hurt spreading across every word, lacing his sentences with pain. “Didn’t you hear him, Seungwoo, I mean. The two have been married for thirty years.”

 

“What does that even mean?”

 

“It means that.” Subin’s voice begins to break, a strangled laugh escapes his lips. “I don’t know, it means that I have as little clue about this matter as you, which is why I’m quoting old, wise Han Seungwoo. Hanse would know more about this, he always does. Alternatively, you could ask Sejun yourself.”

 

“That’s risky,” Mr. Mystery mumbles.

 

“Life’s about risk, buddy,” Subin begins, before another strangled laugh escapes his throat, his voice sounds harsher with every word spoken, rougher. “I shouldn’t speak since I’ve never taken any risks before.”

 

“Take a risk, Byungchan. Take a risk like I never had the courage to do with him.”

 

“Wait, so you mean-”

 

“That I love him and that this conversation was a massive blow to my lack of courage in approaching him? Yeah.”

 

Chan runs.

  
  
  


“Subin? In love with Sejun? Oddly enough, I don’t believe you at all,” Hanse sighs, rolling his eyes, his voice drips with sarcasm and in any other situation, Chan may have yelled at him for speaking so informally to his hyung. He can’t, for Chan awkwardly lies on Hanse’s bed, lamenting about how tough his situation is and how much he wants to cut Subin for keeping his feelings a secret, even though he (bitterly) knows that Subin doesn’t owe him the truth in any way. It would be rude to yell at Hanse on his own bed, in his own room _that he shares with that brat, Subin_.

 

“It’s true! I heard it with these ears, do not doubt my ears, Do Hanse,” Chan whines, smashing his head face first into Hanse’s sheets, before using his arms to push himself up and sitting up, only to flop onto Hanse’s bed once again. Hanse groans in annoyance, looking deep in thought for a split second. _Thoughtfulness looks strange on Hanse,_ Chan thinks. _It’s surreal to watch Do Hanse think._

 

When Chan finds himself on the floor, he comes to the conclusion that Hanse was thinking about whether it would be worth it to kick Chan off the bed, it seems that ultimately, Hanse decided that yes, it would be worth it. Chan gets up and throws himself onto Subin’s bed instead.

 

“It’s strange, don’t you think?” Hanse randomly mumbles after an extensive period of silence. “Then again, I shouldn’t be surprised, Subin is an acting major, so it makes sense that even you’re blind to his emotions.”

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing,” Hanse hums, he sounds obnoxious, like he’s asking for a punch to the face, and Chan would be delighted to hit him until he ends up on the floor like him. “What were you saying? Sebin is real?”

 

“Oh my god, yes!” Chan rambles, Hanse snorts from where he sits as Chan spends the next few ranting about how Subin is unworthy of the ethereal being Sejun is.

 

When he finally leaves, Hanse picks up the phone and dials caller ID Kang Seungsik. “Seungsik! You’ll never believe what Chan just told me!”

  
  
  


“Hey,” Byungchan greets a pouting Seungsik, a completely dejected Chan, and a smug Hanse, he frowns, realising that there’s definitely something off about the atmosphere. Of course, transfer student Choi Byungchan would have no idea of this school’s questionable traditions, the fourteenth of each month marked in calendars with both excitement and terror, depending on whether the calendar marker is a romantic or an emotionally constipated student. “What’s up?” He asks cautiously, looking like he regrets it the moment it leaves his lips, Chan guesses that the taller had realised that he really doesn’t want to know.

 

Hanse does nothing but point to where two boys stand with contrasting hair colours and a look of discomfort flashing across their faces, Sejun and Seungwoo. Hanse’s pointing apparently does not help the situation, but then again, when does the mischievous kid ever help any situation, ever?

 

Subin sighs from behind Byungchan as he approaches the table with his tray of food, he sets it down opposite Hanse and beside Seungsik, hands immediately reaching up and rubbing the older’s back, he chuckles airily in an attempt to lighten the mood. “They’re still sulking? Come on, guys. It’s been ten minutes.”

 

“What’s up?” Byungchan repeats, awkwardness seeping into every word, the awkwardness of being ignored. “Is something wrong with Sejun and Seungwoo?”

 

“Yeah, it’s the fourteenth, the crushing boys are in pain,” Hanse teases, reaching over and moving Chan’s fingers away from the knife he fiddles with on his tray, he whispers a quick “Stop that, he’s going to think you’re a murderer.” and then withdraws his hand.

 

“Hanse, you’re shit at explaining, you know?” Subin mutters before looking up at Byungchan. “It’s confession day, the fourteenth of every school month is confession day here, tons of girls approach the guy they find hot and confess their undying ( _shallow,_ he mumbles) love for them. No one really gets confessions except for Sejun, though, he isn’t the heartthrob of the school for no reason, after all. Oh, and Seungwoo, ever since he dyed his hair to black. Why not, right? Seungwoo’s hot.”

 

Seungsik glares and attempts to throw a fork at Subin, who catches it while it’s flying and smiles, using the fork to eat his own food, despite having his own fork on his own tray. Seungsik groans in frustration, mumbling something about how his education isn’t worth putting up with Jung Subin. _Seungwoo’s hot_ , Chan notices something akin to dread crawling from his stomach to his throat, he dismisses it, wondering why he feels so strongly about that statement. _I mean, Seungwoo is really attractive._

 

Byungchan scrunches up his nose, preparing to say something, then he turns around, and they catch a glimpse of two girls, standing behind him, they’re cheeks tinted pink. A girl with the bluest eyes, who obviously has no Korean blood in her, hands Byungchan a letter and in a mildly annoying voice (in English, too, which the boys barely understand), says, “Kyaa, Byungchani-oppa. Please accept my confession, oppa!” The guys sitting almost throw up their lunch entirely. _Koreaboo,_ Hanse mouths to the others, they do nothing but grimace and nod in agreement. They turn back to where Byungchan has his hands raised, he looks uncomfortable.

 

“I’m sorry, you must have the wrong person, I don’t even know you,” Byungchan stammers back, wondering why someone’s speaking English in a Korean-based school, looking down at the floor with guilt in his eyes. He looks cute, innocent and small, and apparently attractive enough to leach some of the girls who would normally be seen confessing to Sejun. The koreaboo finally gets the memo and takes her leave by running off, her face the brightest shade of red and tears in her eyes.

 

The tears are ridiculous, because:

  1. Byungchan turned her down extremely nicely
  2. How can you be heartbroken when you don’t even know the guy you’re confessing to?
  3. Okay, maybe Byungchan didn’t turn her down nicely and might’ve unintentionally ripped out her heart and stepped on it, why am I even writing this?



 

Chan rips the sheet of paper from his memo pad and crushes it in his hand, earning confused stares from everyone at the table, confused as to where he got a pen and paper from and what he was writing, Chan brushes them off with a flippant wave of his hand and they turn back to where Byungchan continues to admire the polishing of the floor.

 

“Man,” Hanse scoffs. “We’ve got another heartthrob here, don’t we? You’ve been here for, what, three days?”

 

“Three weeks.”

 

“Close.”

 

“Not at all.”

 

No one catches Sejun glancing at their table as Byungchan receives the confession letter, scowling just slightly.

  
  
  


“Man, you should’ve seen Seungsik while Seungwoo was receiving the letters, I think he was actually mad,” Chan laughs, recalling Seungsik’s sullen face as he watched Seungwoo get hit on, the former mumbling that he wishes Seungwoo had just kept his brown hair, since the black dye makes him look a lot hotter than necessary.

 

“Not surprising, they’ve been in love since preschool.” is Sejun’s curt reply, before the taller boy ends the conversation right there, he sounds tired.

 

“Teach me how to be a hotshot with the ladies too, asshole,” Chan teases playfully, hitting Sejun on the back while attempting to resurrect a dying conversation between himself and his longtime crush. “Stop hoarding all these government classified secrets!”

 

Normally, Sejun would feign annoyance, mock him for having a less than beautiful face, normally he would laugh and attempt to push Chan off the building, but today, his annoyance doesn’t seem fake. He seems lost, wandering around, his eyes blank.

 

“Sejun, you okay?” Chan asks as they near his locker. Sejun doesn’t answer and he looks confused, looking around like a lost child.

 

“I thought you were gay, why would you want to be a lady magnet?” Sejun replies, he sounds disinterested, like Subin did the other day while talking about his _obvious_ crush on Sejun.

 

“No reason, is something wrong?”

 

“Nah, I’m gonna run ahead or something, Lee’s mad at me for not handing in my work.”

 

Just like that, the boy’s gone and left to wonder if he did anything to piss Sejun off.

  
  
  


Usually, Chan is confident in his friendships, especially the one he has with Sejun, since they’ve been best friends since either of them cares to remember and it’s not like they fought a petty grade school fight or anything, but it’s different this time, and Chan can’t help but wonder why Sejun barely talks to him anymore, why he avoids him during lunch, down the hallways, even in the few lectures they share. He racks his mind for anything that he could have done to upset his younger friend daily, still nothing.

 

Sejun runs and runs, Chan chases and chases, they go nowhere, running at the same speed, the distance between them staying the same, but so far away. Sejun got a head start, running away from Chan at first opportunity, their conversations scarce and their text messages dry. It’s unfair, unfair how Sejun knows why the distance between them got so large while Chan is left in the dark. When they’re together, it’s silent, which normally never happens, Sejun looks sad, too sad for Chan to raise a finger and point to him, accusing him of swerving him like a deer on the street.

 

So he waits for a proper explanation and though his heart hurts more than ever, Chan can’t help but think that if he’s waiting for Sejun, then he really could wait forever.

  
  
  


The three are in a bar, all plastered out of their own minds, slurring around and seeking emotional support from others. Well, okay, maybe that’s just Chan.

 

Seungsik sighs, setting down his glass, beside him, Subin shifts uncomfortably, his jaw slacking like he’s ready to speak, his mouth opens slightly and a tiny whimper escapes. He slams his mouth shut again and stares down at the table, he looks upset, Chan wouldn’t know. Seungsik clears his throat. “I think he’s just upset in general, maybe not upset, more like muddled, like his brain is disorganised or something. Can’t you ask him yourself?”

 

“No,” Chan replies, trying to hold back the bitterness that slips between his teeth. “He hasn’t properly talked to me in two weeks, is something wrong?”

 

“You know, I used to have a crush on Sejun,” Subin says, he sounds exhausted (it might just be the alcohol), it’s cute though what he’s saying isn’t at all. Chan knows, he knows he was right about Subin’s crush, vacuous Hanse laughed at him, but he was right. “I gave up a few months ago, it’s so tiring to chase after someone who isn’t meant to be your ending, but I mean, my current crush isn’t any better now, is he?” Subin’s laugh is way too happy at such a sad sentence, he’s definitely drunk out of his normalcy.

 

“You know,” Seungsik muses, he sounds the least intoxicated, though he is awfully poetic and spouts long sentences when he’s drunk, so odds are, he’s plastered too. “I think everyone falls in love with Sejun at some point. Even I used to have a crush on him, as did Seungwoo and even token straight character, Do Hanse. There’s just something about the way he speaks, the way his eyes sparkle that just captivates you and steals your breath away. Then, you give up, because you realise that although he makes you feel so special, it’s nothing but your imagination, for he treats everyone so remarkably and yet so, so coldly. I think the only time he’s ever opened up to anyone was with you, Chan.”

 

“Hearing the way he speaks to you, sometimes I catch myself thinking that he does look a little in love with you, but you’re just the same, Chan. It’s scary when people can’t relate other’s personalities to their own. You, too, capture hearts like their nothing, maybe not as much as Sejun does, but definitely more than you realise. You have people hanging off your lip all the time, so why invest your heart in a best friend who would just trample on it? It’s like… like… stepping on a flower… a flower of your heart… I love you guys.” Yeah, Seungsik’s smashed too, he doesn’t normally say things so incoherent and poisonous to his own language major ears.

 

“I don’t think so,” Chan mumbles softly, soft enough that a red-cheeked Subin has to lean in to listen, Seungsik leans back and Chan guesses that he doesn’t care about Chan’s love life issues. “He’d never look at me, not with so many other people looking at him.”

 

“You know, I think everyone on Earth would fall in and out of love with Sejun before he glances at another person, maybe the reason why he hasn’t claimed someone is because everyone loves him and he can’t decide. I don’t know if that’s kind of him, or if it’s just plain cruel.”

 

“I think it’s kind in a cruel way.”

 

“How does that make any sense?”

 

“Sejun is kind.”

 

“You’re wasted.”

 

“We’re all going to die anyway.”

  
  
  


“Hey man, I think you should talk to Syub about his crush on Sejun,” Hanse suggests from where he sits on the bed. Chan’s roommate is probably delighted at the amount of time he stays away from the room, preferring to waste away in Hanse and Subin, Seungsik, or Sejun and Seungwoo’s rooms. For his roommate, it’s probably like rooming alone and having plenty of space to himself. “You may find out some wild shit that you would’ve never known otherwise.”

 

Chan laughs rancorously, threading fingers through his own hair and smiling sourly. “That sounds like a steady route to heartbreak. I don’t need that.”

 

“I’m serious,” Hanse says, leaning forward to come closer to Chan’s face. “Talk to him and you might just find out that he’s not crushing on Sejun. He’s being really obvious right now, you know? You’re ignorant.”

 

“I’m not ignorant and there’s nothing for me to discover. I don’t care. Everyone’s in love with Sejun, why can’t he just admit it?” Chan raises his voice and though Hanse will never admit it, he flinches back.

 

“Talk to him,” Hanse demands, grabbing Chan’s shoulders and shaking them. “If not for yourself, then do it for him.”

  
  
  


When he sees Sejun alone with Byungchan in the overpriced cafe on a Thursday evening, he loses it. It’s not like he’s possessive, and even if he is, Sejun doesn’t owe him anything and he has no right to freak out at every interaction the younger has. But Sejun looks happy, it’s the first time Chan has seen him smile in weeks (“It’s been two weeks, stop being so dramatic,” Seungsik would say.) and it’s not even with his regular circle of friends, it’s with Choi Byungchan. Choi Byungchan, a boy he met five and a half weeks ago. He’s smiling for someone who’s known him for the shortest amount of time but barely talks to Seungwoo, who he’s known since he was three, or Seungsik, who he’s known since he was four. More than anything, he seems mad at Chan, who he’s known almost half his life. It’s not like he’s possessive, it’s just sad and disappointing that the impressive lengths of his friendships with some of them have all fallen and been regarded inferior by Choi Byungchan and his five and a half weeks.

 

He runs to Seungsik’s room as soon as he spots Sejun and Byungchan getting way too close for comfort, going to the older boy for some sort of advice to ease his unnecessary jealousy and pent-up feelings of unfairness.

 

Hanse and Subin are both there, for some reason, Chan tries to leave.

 

“So, you’re jealous because five and a half weeks of Byungchan has upstaged eight and a half years of you,” Seungsik says slowly after Hanse and Subin drag him back into the room in the midst of his escape attempt, making sure that he heard every word correctly, Chan furiously nods and Hanse scoffs.

 

“Who are you to say that they’ve only known each other for five and half weeks,” Subin points out. “Do you remember when we first met Byungchan, how Sejun spoke to him? It was so informal, I’m pretty sure they’ve known each other prior to that meeting.”

 

“Yeah, plus, he didn’t even introduce himself properly, he just said _Nice to see you_ , knowing Sejun, when he meets someone for the first time, he’s formal, has been that way all his life,” Seungsik muses, throwing Hanse’s legs off his bed.

 

“So, what they’re saying is, why don’t you confront Sejun yourself? All of us here are drowning in our own thoughts, Chan,” Hanse says, smiling too small for it to be genuine. “We’re all in the water with you, we can’t help you out, lest we drown ourselves.”

  
  
  


“Chan! What are you doing here?” The taller asks, holding the door to his dorm open for Chan, Chan smiles gratefully. “You should’ve told me you were going to drop by, my room's a mess, I’m sorry.”

 

“No, it’s alright. It’s my fault for coming without notice, thank you for being so hospitable, but I just came to talk,” Chan replies, making himself comfortable on one of the chairs within the other’s room. The room is neat, save for the small pile that he guesses belongs to the other, he concludes that the younger is the world’s biggest liar, for this room is far from a mess.

 

“So, what is it?” Byungchan asks, flopping onto his bed. “You said you needed to talk, right? It’s convenient, I meant to ask you something too.”

 

“You can ask first, my question isn’t important,” Chan says flippantly if Hanse or Subin were here, they’d laugh at him and maybe hit him until he admits the truth. The truth that what he has to say will probably end up being the most important thing that he ever says in his whole life.

 

“Alright then,” Byungchan says with a shrug, sitting up to peer curiously at Chan. He clears his throat. “Are you and Im Sejun dating?”

 

Chan sputters, staring at Byungchan, who looks back at him shamelessly, with widened eyes and a face that’s tinged a little too red for comfort. The younger grins at him with a smile too big to hate and laughs airily, his laughter brief, lasting not longer than a second before a serious expression appears on his strikingly attractive features. “So, you’re not?”

 

“No.” Chan shakes his head at that, biting his lower lip to prevent him from saying anything regrettable to the one on the bed.

 

“But it’s what you want, is it not?” Byungchan’s eyes are dark and so is his expression, his jaw set and mouth upturned into a somewhat cruel smile. “I value our friendship, Chan, but friendship falls short of love in my books, and I love Sejun. So, sorry Channie but I won’t hold back, I won’t let you win this race for Sejun’s heart.”

 

“You’re awful.”

 

“Am I awful for doing what others are too afraid of attempting to?” There’s something in his tone and Chan knows he’s lost and that Byungchan is directly speaking to him with his vague sentences. He knows that the length of his friendship is Sejun, although significant in numbers, means nothing to Byungchan, for unlike Chan, he measures in seconds. While Chan measures the amount of time he’s spent with Sejun in years, cherishing and celebrating each passing year he spends in Sejun’s company, Byungchan cherishes the seconds, he gives the boy with the dimpled grin and the dangling earrings an equal amount of love in a second than Chan could ever do in the 31,536,000 seconds that pass by every 365 days.

 

Chan knows he’s lost.

 

“What did you want to ask?” He’s suddenly cheerful again, his words kind.

 

“Nothing of importance, thank you for hosting me,” Chan mumbles, standing and leaving the room. _It’s cold_ , he notes as he steps outside the room, but a buried part of him knows that the heated dorm room belonging to Choi Byungchan is somehow colder than the cold February air.

 

Chan knows he’s lost.

 

And everything is so fucking cold.

  
  
  


_Why invest your heart in a best friend who would just trample on it?_ Seungsik had asked, though drunk, his words still the beautiful poetry they always are.

 

It takes Chan a while, longer than he’d ever like to admit, to realise that while Seungsik’s words made no sense that day, it makes sense now, after the conversation with a cold-hearted Byungchan, he realises that perhaps Byungchan wasn’t being cruel for his own sake.

 

Perhaps Byungchan’s words like stone told him what he never wished for, but always needed to hear. Perhaps Byungchan said what he said to paint the picture clearer for Chan.

 

He never wanted his heart to be stepped on, he just wanted his love, his touch, he wanted Sejun. Instead, he got his heart broken more times than he’d like to recall, for every memory with the dimpled grin and the dangling earrings is a memory too painful for Chan to relive.

  
  
  


It’s a cold morning when someone comes up to the door of his room, tapping lightly but with a sense of urgency at the same time, the sun has yet to rise and shoot rays across a blank, starless sky. A sleepy Chan would answer the door to an all too familiar face, one that he never thought he’d find himself so close to ever again. It’s a cold morning when Im Sejun grabs his wrist and drags him out of his room.

 

He wants to call out to the younger’s back as he pulls on Chan’s wrist, wants to reach out and ruffle his dyed blond hair like he always used to do, wants to hug Sejun tightly and never let him go again. He stops himself, this is the cold Sejun, the one who hasn’t talked to him in a month, this is the Sejun that Chan doesn’t know.

 

He drags Chan down what seems like a dozen flights of stairs to reach the first floor, the lifts are disabled at this hour of the morning, everything is timeless as they walk through the pathways, dimly lit by street lamps and the soft glow of a dawn that’s about to spill into the sky. Sejun’s silent the entire time until they reach a small grass patch on the edge of the college campus, he sits and gestures for Chan to sit beside him.

 

They don’t speak as they watch dawn break through in silence, when the silence breaks, much like the cracking night sky, it’s Sejun who speaks.

 

“I’m sorry.” It comes out closer to a whisper than actual speaking, he can see the pain flashing through the younger’s eyes, he looks like a child all over again. He looks like he’s apologising about the bicycle incident, except instead of humour, it’s heartbreak that hangs in the air. Slow words that are meaningless when they’re said too late. Chan realises that although it should be him who’s upset beyond imagination, it’s actually him, his shaking friend and long-time crush. While Chan knows that he has the right to be angry, he can’t explode at Sejun, the latter looks too small and fragile, and though he knows that he shouldn't be and that the younger’s done nothing but hurt him, he’s still in love with him.

 

“Why?” _Did I deserve it,_ is what he doesn’t add.

 

“I had my reasons.”

 

“And what were they? I deserve to know, don’t I?”

 

“You’re so foolish, Chan.” In the dim glow of the fraction of the sun which has risen, Chan catches a glimpse of Sejun’s eyes. They shine as if polished by the morning dew, or perhaps by sentimentality and ambivalence, a mixture of fondness and sadness. In the past, Chan may have wrapped an arm around the younger, whispering words of solace into Sejun’s ear, but this isn’t Sejun. When Sejun apologises, there’s an air of humour in what he says, something that tells you he isn’t really sorry and how if he could do it all over again, he would. It’s different, because now, Sejun isn’t happy, there’s no teasing glint in his eyes, nor a forced regretful expression on his face. It’s bittersweet.

 

“Byungchan confessed to me,” Sejun whispers, turning to Chan and staring at his facial expression, Chan’s face remains blank, though it would be painfully obvious to anyone else how close he is to breaking down. He just doesn’t want to give his source of pain the satisfaction of seeing his face crumble and hearing his voice crack. Sejun’s expecting something, he can see it in the painful trace of hope flashing in his eyes and the thin smile on his face. Chan won’t give it to him, not now, never again.

 

“Why’s that my problem?” Chan asks, ignoring the excessive throbbing of his heart, ready to burst out and fall apart. Once again, to Hanse and Subin, it would’ve been horribly obvious how much the older hurts, maybe even to Seungwoo and Seungsik, who can’t even see the amount of love they hold for each other, maybe even to them, it would be clear as day.

 

“It’s not,” Sejun replies, his voice small and cracking just slightly. “I just wanted it to be.”

 

“Vague, you’re so vague. Nothing you say makes any sense to me, Sejun. If you’ve come to me at this ungodly hour just to spew your bullshit, then I’m going back to bed,” Chan says, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth to prevent the amount of anger he traps within him from spilling out.

 

“You know, Chan,” Sejun mumbles, staring off into a distant, cloudless sky, eyes unfocused as he blinks slowly. His breaths are deep, enough for Chan to be able to hear them, his breaths shake as much as he trembles beside Chan. “You know, Chan. I was, I was.” Sejun is stammering, he looks fragile but beautiful. Chan knows that the words he’s been dying to hear for years are dancing at the tip of Sejun’s tongue and the words he’s been dying to say for years are dancing at the tip of his own tongue. He doesn’t want to hear anything escape Sejun’s mouth because he knows if he says those words, he’ll likely forgive him, run back to him, disregarding the fact that Sejun will just crush him again.

 

If their love wasn’t one-sided then, Chan wants it to be that way now. He wants Sejun to tell him that he’s never loved the older a day in his life, that he accepted Byungchan’s confession without hesitation, that Chan could walk out of his life and all he would do is help to close the door behind him. He wants to tell Sejun that waiting for him had him fall out of love, that he sees Sejun as nothing more than a little brother, that he doesn’t love Sejun.

 

All of that would be lies, of course, for he’s still so deeply captivated by the way Sejun laughs, enthralled by that smile that reaches his eyes, captivated by the way Sejun says his name when tired. He’s spellbound by Sejun and saying that he doesn’t love the younger would be the biggest lie in his history of lying.

 

He loves Sejun, that he’s sure of, and he feels like there’s a part of him, no matter how small or big, no matter how strong or brittle, there’s a part of him that will always be in love with the boy with the dimpled grin and the dangling earrings.

 

To the end of the world, to the day the universe implodes, collapsing into itself and falling apart into mere fragments of what it once was. To the end of the world, the universe, and them, he’ll always be in love with the man who’s had his heart since the beginning of time.

  
  
  


The most painful thing is not that he spent his youth pining after a boy who he thought would never love him in return, cherish him with the same feelings that Chan would feel towards him. The most painful thing is that he didn’t, that Sejun loved him back all the same, but he was too blinded by his own love for the younger that he couldn’t see the love the younger had for him. The most painful thing is that Sejun was in just as much pain as him, loved him just as much and Chan ignored it because he was so in love himself.

 

On February fourteenth, Sejun finishes what he wanted to say on that cold morning he took Chan out. On February fourteenth, the shallow confessions of young girls were ignored, for Sejun was in favour of confessing himself, for once. It must be tiring, to have others throw their hearts at you, blocking you from loving whoever you want to. It must be tiring to be the sweetheart of too many.

 

“I turned down Byungchan,” Sejun mumbles softly, the howling wind of a dying winter almost blocking him out entirely. “Or rather, I told him to give me time, is that leading him on?” His laughter is mirthless, he sounds exhausted and so small in comparison to all the other sounds in this world.

 

Chan shakes his head, “Not if you’re going to accept him. Which you will, eventually.” Distantly, Chan wonders if both him and Sejun are speaking in the softest tones or if it’s just him, his ears attempting to block out anything that could hurt him, but allowing the loudness of the emotions in both their voices to travel across, just slightly.

 

“I don’t know if I will, I love you too much,” Sejun answers, tone as dead as the look in his eyes. Chan expects this, so he doesn’t know why those words still cause his heart rate to skyrocket, he can feel his heartbeats in his head, it’s a feeling that he’s not proud of, but he will admit it, he’s told enough lies. “I don’t know if I’ll ever love anyone else.”

 

“I’ve adored you since we were twelve years old,” Sejun elaborates, even without Chan asking him to, he doesn’t know if he wants to know. “It started as more of a puppy crush than anything, I believe.” His eyes wander off into the distance, desperately scanning the sky for stars, clouds, anything far away enough that he wouldn’t have to look at Chan. He’s guilty, they’ve been friends for years, he can read Sejun like an open book in everything, he liked to think that, before this.

 

“Do you remember when we kissed, when we were sixteen?” It’s a question, though Sejun makes it sound more like a statement, as if he wouldn’t accept the idea that Chan has forgotten something like that. Of course Chan remembers, how do you forget something that haunts you at your lowest points, that hurts you so much? How do you forget Sejun’s soft lips against your own, the warm press of him against you, the shock? “I meant it, I gave my all to that kiss.”

 

“If I was ever given notice that the world would end, that it was my last day on Earth, I would want to spend all my remaining time kissing you. I meant everything, I gave you my whole being for that fleeting moment and when I opened my eyes,” Sejun mutters, drifting off just slightly before smiling bitterly. “You were there, in that moment, you were there. You looked upset, uncomfortable. Chan, I saw the awkwardness flashing across your face and I was so afraid that I ruined everything. I asked myself why I let my emotions control me, why I did that and at that time, I lacked an answer. So, I tore myself away from you, apologising because it was a mistake. I convinced myself that whatever I felt for you was a mistake.”

 

“I pretended it meant nothing to me, just like how it meant nothing to you. I did it to protect myself and my worthless pride. I did it because I was, and am, selfish, and I hurt you in the process, Chan.” Sejun stares him with _something_ in his eyes, perhaps a mess of longing and regret and sadness and a million other poisonous emotions that threaten to consume him.

 

“I’ve been in love with you for eight years,” Sejun confesses softly, staring at him with galaxies in his eyes, galaxies and tears.

 

 _I love you._ Chan knows what answers Sejun is looking for as the younger’s eyes almost bore into him, watching him carefully. Loving Sejun would be a risk, the biggest risk he would ever take, for he knows Sejun too well, knows how easily his heart can be crushed by the younger all over again. He loves Sejun, he loves him too much, enough that it strikes his heart to even think of him.

 

Chan stares at him for the fraction of a second, trying to take in an overwhelming amount of information. He still loves Sejun, so why does it all feel so wrong when it should feel so right. Why do those words mean nothing more than if a stranger was to tell them to him. He still loves Sejun, so why? He shakes his head, memories of the many times he’s hurt because of Sejun and Sejun’s hurt because of him; hot tears roll down his face, dripping onto the ground, he’s angry, but he’s not. Everything is so confusing and Chan hates it, he hates this. He hates how in the end, when everything’s worked out like how he’s wished it would for the past few years, he’s still angry, still confused, still discontent even after he’s gotten what he wants.

 

Loving Sejun would be a risk and Chan is nothing more than a coward, too afraid to take risks, too afraid of being hurt, so instead, he bows his head.

 

“I’m sorry.”

  
  
  


Im Sejun hurts everyone, whether he knows it or not. He treats everyone so specially, in a way where no one could resist falling in love with him. He makes people feel unique, feel loved, even when they’re just a blank canvas like Chan is. He paints beautiful pictures on the canvases of the people he’s captivated, infatuated, only to tear them down when he decides he’s bored or when he finds someone else.

 

Chan can’t take that risk, can’t deal with being thrown aside when another comes into the picture. Chan can’t risk being hurt.

 

And he’s so, so sorry about it.

  
  
  


Chan is slow to realise that the root of all the hurt he’s ever experienced in the miserable years of his existence is either directly or indirectly the fault of Im Sejun.

 

But he realises this eventually and also realises that he’s played an equal part in hurting Sejun all these years.

 

In the end, he hurt Sejun the most. 

**Author's Note:**

> So, I really enjoyed writing this because it's the first of anything I've ever written where no one really gets a happy ending. I'm not really a fan of happy endings because it's so unrealistic when everyone gets one, plus it gets tedious to think of ways to solve everyone's issues. 
> 
> Seungwoo, I'm so sorry and I'm so angry at myself for not including you more. I love you.
> 
> Alright, back to the cave of inactivity for me, see y'all!!


End file.
